


we don't walk it on our own

by someticket



Series: checkmate [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, apollo is a cryptid, piper learns guitar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:02:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29995668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someticket/pseuds/someticket
Summary: Piper props her chin into her hands. “Apollo, I do like you."
Relationships: Apollo & Piper McLean, Percy Jackson & Piper McLean, Piper Mclean/Shel
Series: checkmate [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2205738
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	we don't walk it on our own

Percy waves his hands once he’s at the edge of the ramp, making sure she’s watching. Piper yells her affirmation, and he tips over. She crosses her fingers, but the piece of cardboard on wheels he calls a skateboard doesn’t break. He’s had it since he was about thirteen, making it more stable than most things in his life. 

He races over to her when he’s done, chattering about a new trick he’s learning that she wouldn’t be able to pull off with every steroid in the world, probably, and his ankle is badly grazed. Piper makes a show of kissing it better and sticking a hello kitty band aid on. 

Percy bends his leg at an impossible angle to see it. “Sick.” 

Piper throws her arms out in a 'what can I say?' motion. 

“Okay,” she says, stretching and unfolding. “My turn.” 

She has her skates on this time, dirty white with a collection of nonsensical scribbles of almost every regular at the skatepark. She salutes Percy before dropping in backwards, turning at the bottom so she can slam her hand against the concrete at the other edge and lift her legs over her head. 

“Loser!” Percy yells. “You suck!” 

She grins, spitting onto the pavement, and pushes off again. Her hair can’t exactly flow in the wind under her helmet, but the rush of air against her face is good enough. 

When she gets back to Percy, Shel’s arrived. Piper kisses her chastely, smiling. 

Percy pretends to gag. 

Piper turns on her heel. “Shut it. You and Annabeth eye-fuck, like 24-7.” 

Percy frowns. “No, Annabeth and I eye tell each other we love and appreciate each other.” 

“That’s worse. Shel, babe, where’s your board?” 

Shel tugs at her earlobe. “I was at the studio all morning, figured I’d drag you guys to lunch.” 

Percy takes no convincing, slipping his board under his arm and artfully untying his shoelaces. Neither of them have phones on them, but Shel offers to next their respective parents to let them know they’ll be home late. Percy is pretty much the only other person her age who still lives with his mom, and seeing as he lights up when he talks about it, Piper assumes it’s a choice. In all honestly, her house is more of a come and go type situation, so Shel texts Apollo instead of Tristan, because he’s the one who’ll notice. 

Apollo has all but moved in at this point. She’s scarily used to receiving orange juice and burnt toast in the morning. 

They camp in some greasy hole-in-the-wall diner, playing looped 80’s R&B. Piper kicks her feet up to rest on the seats on the other side of the booth and throws her arms over Shel’s shoulder, pulling at the hair at the nape of her neck. 

Across from them, Percy raises his eyebrows and slides over a pair of sunglasses. 

Once she’s closer to unidentifiable, they call over a waiter, ordering a bunch of shared meals. Shel orders an over the top milkshake, courtesy of her sweet tooth, but asks for extra straws. 

“So,” she starts, wrapping her hands around it and leaning in like she has a secret. Her voice doesn’t change from its usual soft tone. “You guys know that song clip went viral, right? My guys say I need to release while the hype is still there, but I need something to make it different than what everyone’s expecting.” 

She falls back into the booth, black hair spilling over the cheap red leather. “I need a feature. I only have a few days to pick, though.” 

Percy sticks a straw into her drink and grimaces at what comes out. “I’m flattered, Shel, but I’m going to have to say no. Hey, what is this?” 

“Knockoff Kinder Bueno,” Shel answers easily, ignoring the first comment. “Don’t make that face – your favourite flavour is blue.” 

“Blue is sexy,” Percy says, nodding wisely. “Is it raspberry? Is it battery acid? I don’t know, but it’s sure as hell going to dye my tongue.” 

“I could do it,” Piper blurts. 

They turn to look at her. 

Piper clears her throat. “The feature, I mean. I’m a pretty good singer.” 

The silence hangs in the air. Percy looks away, drilling his fingers against his neck, while Shel turns to her in surprise. 

“Are you sure, Pipes? I mean, that would be sick, but.” 

She gestures to her sunglasses. 

Piper shrugs. “I mean, it wouldn’t mean anything. Maybe make it harder for us to get out, but-” she runs her tongue over her teeth. “I mean, I'm used to the spotlight. I think I could deal.” 

The waiter swings by, dropping off piles of food, and the conversation stalls. Piper rolls the idea around her head, forcing herself to think about it instead of just letting her gut jump into wells and pull the rest of her with it. She can almost see it, her name snug beside Shel’s in every copy of her song. 

It stays on her mind all day, but brings it back up. Percy ditches them before it gets dark, meeting with Annabeth for a sleepover that genuinely seems to be a literal sleepover, and Shel kisses her good night at her front door. Piper almost tugs her inside, but is glad when she doesn’t. 

Apollo sits on the kitchen counter, clad in a loose tank top and long earrings, and her dad is gazing up at him. 

“Hey,” Piper greets, waltzing to the fridge to grab a drink. 

Apollo swings his legs around and hops off the counter, while Tristan coughs into his fist. 

Piper watches in amusement. “It’s nice to see you too, dad.” 

Tristan squeezes her on the shoulder. “How was your day, baby?” 

He sounds tired. He’s been worked to the bone since his casting in a new Netflix original, only home for nights at a time. Piper leans into his touch, tipping her glass in a cheers motion. 

She points at Apollo. “I’ll let you guys have tonight, but he’s mine in the morning.” 

Apollo’s face flushes, and he sticks his face into his hands. 

Tristan laughs, warm and unoffended. “You got it, captain.” 

\----- 

Piper accepts her orange juice in the morning, but since her dad is home she gets an upgrade from Apollo’s burnt toast. The kitchen smells like bacon fat, and he has thin wire frame glasses perched on his nose. Piper kisses his cheek as he passes and instantly regrets it. 

“You’re shaving as soon as they’re done filming,” she says, slipping into a high seat and untangling her earrings from her hair. 

Tristan hums lightly. “Maybe I won’t. They’re calling me a dilf online, you know.” 

Piper’s jaw drops. “No. No. That’s where I draw the line.” 

He flips the food onto a plate covered with thick kitchen paper and joins her, laughing at her expression. Neither of them have plans for the day, happy to spend time just being around each other. 

Piper hugs him tight when he has to leave. They’re only halfway through filming the season, and the house feels emptier without him, no matter how many friends she brings over. He lifts her up and twirls her around and kisses her hard on the forehead, then leaves for the next few weeks. Piper walks a few laps of the sitting room once he’s gone, where his cologne still lingers; she’s old enough to admit that she misses him these days, instead of holding on to her old bitterness. 

Apollo’s outside, barefoot and relaxed in the swing bench as the late evening sun turns the world golden. Puppet rocks back and forth of her heels before kicking out of her converse and sitting on the porch in front of him. 

He plays guitar like he's breathing, almost subconscious while picking at notes and making tunes up on the fly. He teases out smooth notes with his eyes closed, and it leaves a taste of butterscotch in her mouth. 

“What’s that one called?” Piper asks. 

He mutes the strings with his palm until it's barely there. “I don't know. It’s not a real song.” 

Piper shifts, folding her legs in. “Sounds real to me.” Then- “Could you teach me?” 

Apollo’s eyes open, his pupils wide disks. “Wait here.” 

He does a little jog to the door and leaves it open in his wake. Piper gets up to shut it, because even though he doesn't get mosquito bites it doesn’t mean she and her father wouldn't get eaten alive. He’s in view before she can shut it, though, with a smaller guitar in hand. 

“Here,” he offers, holding it out to her once he's outside again. 

Piper props the cool wood on her thigh and presses her fingers into the steel strings experimentally. It's just the right size, and has an ant carved into the neck. 

She looks up. “Apollo, did you have this ready for me?” 

He smiles, eager. “I made it, actually. Your dad helped with the carving, because I wasn’t sure what to add, but-” he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “I was kind of hoping you’d want to learn. Not! That I’d make you, or anything. It’s up to you.” 

Piper gently slides the instrument until it sits vertical, then fastens her hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Apollo waits for her, tugging at one of his locs self-consciously. 

“I know basic chords,” Piper tells him, once she’s ready. She strums the barebones of a tune. 

Apollo brightens – literally, he almost glows when he’s happy. “Riptide. A classic. That’s good; you'll always need those chords.” 

He moves off the bench and sits beside her on the porch, adjusting her fingers without being condescending and walking her through scales. Piper’s a little shocked how easy it is for her to sit back and listen, even when she doesn’t pick things up as much as she’d like. They stop once her fingertips get sore from the steel biting into them, and she draws in a deep breath. 

Apollo agrees to letting her sing to his music. He actually seems touched. Piper waits for the tune to settle and joins him. Her rhythm isn’t as steady as it used to be, but her voice is still strong, and harmonises with the music easily. 

She gasps when she’s done, unused to the breathing patterns that come with singing, and blinks heavily through the last desperate rays of sun. Apollo looks at her like – like she’s his kid. 

“I’ve never heard you sing before,” he admits. “I’ve never heard anything like it.” 

He says it with more weight than Piper thinks is needed. 

“Thank you for helping me,” she responds, trying to put that same weight into her words. 

Apollo squints. “Honestly? I was hoping you’d come to me. I know I’ve been around for a while, but I want to say it properly: I want to be a staple figure in your life, Piper, not just your dad’s.” 

Piper props her chin into her hands. “Apollo, I do like you. I should probably say that properly too.” 

She moves to stand, taking the guitar with her. “And - you’ll always be a staple here, if my dad has anything to say about it.” 

Tension drains out of the man, and he smiles at her awkwardly. Piper leaves him on the porch, sucking her fingers, and sends a picture of her guitar to virtually her entire contacts list. 

Shel texts back immediately, a string of exclamation marks, then calls her. Piper smiles, picks up the phone.


End file.
